The President's Daughter (29 page)

“I forgot that you two have met,” Simon noted, then belatedly introduced Betsy.

“It’s been years since we’ve seen each other,” Norton said as he extended his hand to Betsy. “We, however, have not met. It’s my pleasure.”

“Thank you.” Betsy took the hand he offered. “Do you have any thoughts on what could be keeping Dina?”

“We keep going back and forth between being paranoid and thinking that something has happened to her and thinking that maybe we’re just a couple of mother hens who are worried over nothing.” Jude sat on one arm of an overstuffed chair.

“It’s still early.” Betsy moved to the window and looked out. “Perhaps we should give her a little more time.”

“It’s eight-thirty.” Simon glanced at his watch.

“It’s not like Dina to not keep in touch. She never goes anywhere without that phone in her hand.” Jude’s forehead creased with worry.

“I think we should give Polly a call and see what she can tell us about Mrs. Dillon,” Simon suggested.

Simon lifted the phone from the table nearby and handed it to Jude. “If you wouldn’t mind . . .”

Jude dialed the number for Polly’s house and, when Polly answered, explained that she would be passing the phone to someone who was trying to help them get in touch with Dina. Betsy leaned over and hit the speakerphone button.

“Polly, my name is Simon Keller. We’re trying to catch up with Dina, and it seems you were the last person to speak with her today.”

“No, actually, I didn’t speak with her today. I left a voice mail message for her late yesterday afternoon.” Polly paused, then asked, “Has something happened to Dina?”

“We’re hoping not,” Simon told her, taking pains not to unduly alarm the woman. “We’re hoping that it’s nothing more serious than a dead battery in her phone and that she’s on her way home. But in the event that that’s not the case, we need to know where she went today. We know she went to meet with the customer you called her about, Mrs. Dillon. Do you happen to know where the property is, the one that Mrs. Dillon was looking at?”

“She didn’t say. I . . . I didn’t think to ask. . . .”

“What can you tell us about Mrs. Dillon? What did she look like?”

“Oh, she was maybe in her late forties or her early fifties. It was hard to tell. She was petite and blond and quite well dressed. Very attractive. She came in and asked for Dina. Said she had some work she wanted Dina to look at, that she’d heard that Dina was good. She left a number for Dina to call. . . .”

Simon and Norton exchanged a long look.

“Do you happen to have the number?” Simon asked.

“It might still be at the shop. Do you want me to go down and see if I can find it?”

“Yes, that would be very helpful. We’ll call you back in five minutes at the shop.” Jude switched off the phone, then studied the faces of the two men.

“Who?” she demanded.

“This Mrs. Dillon isn’t really a customer, is she?” Betsy asked softly.

“We don’t think so.” Simon reached for her hands.

“Is she the person who tried to kill Dina?”

“It’s very possible.”

“Do you know who she is?”

“We believe we do.”

“Who?” Jude repeated.

“Sarah Decker,” Simon told her.

“Who?” Betsy frowned. “Who is Sarah Decker?”

“Sarah
Hayward
Decker.”

“Graham’s daughter?” Jude gasped. “Graham’s
daughter . . .
?”

Norton nodded.

“How do you know this?” Jude’s knees began to quiver, and she backed into the sitting room and folded into the nearest chair. “How can you be sure?”

Simon related his theory.

“She killed Blythe, and now she wants to kill Dina,” Betsy said. “We can’t let her. . . .”

“We have to call the police.” Jude started for the phone when he’d finished. “They—we—have to start looking for Dina now. Right now. . . .”

“On the way up I called Sarah’s home, but no one answered. I then called her mother’s home in Rhode Island, but the housekeeper told us that Celeste was in D.C. at her son’s home. When I called Gray’s, the nanny told me that Gray and Jen took Celeste to dinner and the theater for an early birthday present.”

“Was Sarah with them?”

“She was expected but never showed up. Julian is at some must-attend function at the Academy, and the nanny said that they assumed that perhaps Sarah got her nights mixed up and went with Julian, but that after the Haywards left for dinner Julian called Gray’s to see if Sarah was with them.”

“I’m calling the police.” Jude reached for the phone.

“And tell them what, Jude?” Philip reached out and took her wrist gently.

“That Dina is missing and that we think Sarah Decker is trying to kill her.”

“That’s a serious charge to make, Jude, when we don’t know for certain,” Simon told her.

“I think that you must decide exactly what—and how much—you want the police to know before you make that call,” Norton cautioned. “Remember that the press—”

“I don’t give a damn about the press. I don’t give a damn about who knows what. All I care about is Dina’s safety.”

“Jude, believe me, we’re all concerned about Dina’s safety.” Simon stood and took the phone from Jude’s trembling hands. “But first things first. Before we call anyone else, we need to call Polly back. If she’s found that phone number, the police will need it.”

“You’re right. Besides, Polly’s been waiting for way more than five minutes, and she must be getting quite anxious. Especially since she has no idea of what’s going on.” Jude’s fingers flew over the phone’s keypad, punching in numbers. The conversation was brief.

“Polly can’t find the slip of paper with Mrs. Dillon’s phone number on it.” Jude fought back the panic that was threatening to engulf her. “I told her to call back if she locates it. She was going to go look through the trash bag in the back of the store, but she’s not sure that the trash from yesterday wasn’t already picked up.”

Norton stepped forward and touched Simon on the arm. “I want to borrow your car to drive to Gray’s. I want to be at the house when they arrive home from their evening out.”

“What are the chances that Celeste knew about Sarah killing Blythe?” Simon asked.

“That’s one of the things I plan on asking her.”

Norton turned to Jude and said, “Jude, I know how distressed you are, but you need to be very careful about what you tell the police at this point. If there’s a way out of this without telling all, I think you should consider taking it at this point. Once the truth about Dina’s parentage is out, there will be no taking it back. Her life will never be the same. I think this needs to be played very, very carefully.”

“Assuming she’s still alive when they find her,” Jude snapped.

“For what it’s worth, I agree with Philip,” Betsy told them. “I say we not give away anything that Dina may not want made public, unless and until we have to. This needs to be her decision. Besides, supposing we’re all wrong and Mrs. Dillon was legitimate and Dina just got distracted somewhere. How do you think she’d react if we called the local police and told them everything?”

“Do you really think that Dina’s just distracted?” Jude snapped.

“No. No, I don’t, Jude,” Betsy replied. “But I think that we need to consider that it is a possibility when we have no facts.”

“Jude, can you call the police in Henderson and tell them merely that Dina went to meet a prospective client at a property and hasn’t been heard from all day?” Simon asked. “See what they suggest?”

“Yes,” Jude agreed. “And I can call Linda Best; she’s a realtor down there. She’ll be able to pull up a list of all the properties that are for sale in the area.”

“Particularly the vacant ones,” Betsy added.

“Do it.” Simon pointed to the phone; then to Betsy he said, “We’ll need a description of the car Dina was driving. License plate number . . .”

“I’ll get that for you.” Betsy turned her chair on a dime and wheeled down the hallway.

“Simon, if I could take your car . . .” Philip stepped forward.

Simon tossed Norton his car keys. “Keep in touch, Philip.”

Norton caught the keys with his left hand. On his way out of the room he turned back to Simon and said, “I agree with Jude that some law enforcement involvement is called for. I’d like to speak with an old friend at the FBI. I can assure you that this can be done discreetly. It wouldn’t hurt to have a few agents in the area and on call, so to speak.”

Simon nodded. “Do it.”

“Consider it done.” Norton disappeared through the front door.

“Here’s the information on the Jeep that Dina took this morning.” Betsy returned to the room moments later.

“Then let’s get on with it. My realtor-friend has agreed to put together a list of properties and fax it over to the police department,” Jude told them. “I also spoke with Tom Burton; he’s with the Henderson police. He’s going to radio all of his patrol cars to look for the Jeep that Dina was driving, though I could tell he thinks she’s just having a beer with a few friends someplace. He also suggested that she might have stopped for dinner somewhere with this client. I guess that’s a possibility, isn’t it, Simon?”

Jude’s eyes pleaded. She wanted so badly for Dina to be out of harm’s way someplace, wanted to believe that there was a logical explanation for the fact that Dina had not been heard from all day. That Mrs. Dillon was in fact a client. That very shortly Dina would be walking through the door, annoyed that her phone wasn’t working but bubbling over about the new job she’d lined up that day.

“I don’t think it’s likely, Jude.”

“I can’t lose her, Simon. She’s my child. She’s my everything,” Jude whispered, momentarily frozen to the spot where she stood.

“
We
can’t lose her,” a somber Betsy chimed in.

“We’re all in agreement then. We won’t lose her.” He turned to Betsy. “Is there a car we can use?”

“I have Dina’s car,” Jude told him.

“And I have a van. It’s equipped with a lift for my chair,” Betsy said.

“Then we’ll take the van, Betsy, if you don’t mind driving, and we’ll head down to Henderson,” Simon said. “Though I don’t know what we can accomplish in the middle of the night.”

“Anything’s better than being here not knowing what’s going on down there.” Jude nodded.

“Let’s go, then,” Betsy said from the doorway. “Simon, you can navigate. Jude, you pray. . . .”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

“Jude, I still think you’re overreacting.” For the second time in less than an hour, Tom Burton began his lecture. “I still think she’s met up with . . . someone”— Tom paused, making a distinct effort to be as tactful as possible—“Could be a friend, could be a boyfriend, and just lost track of the time.”

“An entire night, Tom? Anything could have happened. Her car could have gone off the road into a ditch; she could have been attacked by someone who might have been hiding out in one of those vacant barns.”

“Jude, no one ever said you lacked imagination.” Tom shook his head but at least had the good sense to not smile. “How old’s your daughter? Old enough to spend a night out without checking in with her mother?”

“Yes, of course she is. And I’m sure there have been times when she’s done just that. But this time, since we were staying with a friend in Pennsylvania for a few days, she would have called, Tom.” Jude pointed skyward. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the sun is up. I want to find my daughter before it sets again.”

“I understand that. And the best way to make that happen is for you to give me and my officers a chance to see what’s what.”

“That’s your way of saying go home and get out of your hair. You think she just had a wild night, don’t you?” Jude’s anger and frustration flared. Her fisted hands rode her hips. “You think that Dina is shacked up someplace with some guy she met in a bar. Well, she isn’t. I know she isn’t.”

“Jude, I’m not trying to make light of the fact that your daughter didn’t come home last night. But young people do—on occasion—stay out all night and, for whatever reason, forget to call home. It happens all the time. Now, I understand that being her mother, you don’t want to hear that . . .” Tom began, then backed off when he saw the fire in her eyes. “Oh, hell. Fine. We’ll make a tour of all the farms that are for sale. Give me that list that Linda Best faxed over and we’ll take a look at some of these places.”

Jude studied the list as if to memorize it before handing it over to Tom.

“Now, why don’t the three of you go get yourself some breakfast and give us a little time to work here.”

“All right.” Simon nodded. “I’ll just take these ladies right across the street to the Henderson Café.”

“Good enough.” Tom held the door of the police station open for Jude, Betsy, and Simon.

“How can you eat at a time like this?” Jude poked at Simon.

“I can’t. But I would like a cup of coffee for the ride.”

“What ride?” Betsy asked.

“Jude, where do you think the police will look first?” Simon took Jude’s arm as they walked to the pedestrian crossing.

“My guess is that they will start at the places closest to town.”

“Then we’ll start at the places farthest from town.”

“Good plan.” Betsy nodded her approval. “Jude, you run into that café and get the coffee. Simon, let’s get the van. I don’t want to waste any more time than we have to.”

“Don’t you dare leave me,” Jude warned Simon.

“Well, since I don’t know where we’re going and I’m not familiar with the controls in that specially equipped van of Betsy’s, that’s one worry you don’t have. It’s all for one and one for all, as far as I’m concerned. Now, you go on and get the coffee; we’ll bring the van around and pick you up right here.”

Simon had to quicken his pace to keep up with Betsy’s chair, which fairly raced to the van they’d left parked at the end of the street.

“Hurry, Simon. I don’t like the feel of this,” Betsy urged him on. “I don’t like the feel of this at all. . . .”

By noon they’d driven a total of seventeen miles and checked out three of the properties on the realtor’s list. All three were occupied, and none of the owners reported any interest in their farms over the past week.

“Jude, are you hungry? We never did get that breakfast.” Simon leaned over from the passenger seat and patted a weary Jude on the arm.

“I have no appetite, Simon, but if you and Betsy want to stop someplace, that’s fine with me.”

“I could use something cool to drink,” Betsy admitted.

“We passed a convenience store on our way out to this last place. I can run in there and see what they have to offer.”

Simon made his quick stop, pausing to use the pay phone to catch up with Philip, once again cursing the fact that he hadn’t replaced his own cell phone when he lost it amid the paper debris of the Hayward book research. While he had no good news to relate, he was gratified to hear that the FBI already had several agents heading toward Henderson.

“All you have to do is let me know when and where you want them,” Philip told him, “so I suggest you touch base with me frequently and let me know where you are.”

“Must be some powerful ‘friend’ you have,” Simon said dryly.

“Indeed,” Philip murmured as he hung up.

“You must be getting tired,” Simon said to Betsy as he returned to the van with an assortment of bottled water, soda, and iced tea. “Up all night, no sleep.”

“Could say the same for you.”

“Yeah, but I’m young and tough.” Simon twisted the cap off of Betsy’s bottle of water and handed it over to her.

“And I’m old and cranky.” Betsy drew a long swallow from the bottle of water. “Even so, today’s not the day to get in my way.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Simon assured her.

Betsy was every bit as tired as she looked. More tired than she’d been in a very long time. But there would be no rest. For years she’d prayed that the day would come when her sister’s daughter would seek out her Pierce heritage. To Betsy’s way of thinking, Dina had been snatched from her family as a child. Betsy wasn’t about to let anyone or anything—not even death—snatch her away now that she’d returned.

And then there was the matter of unfinished business with the person who had been responsible for Blythe’s death. Betsy had never stopped praying that the day would come when the fates would allow her retribution.

It was beginning to look as if that day had finally arrived.

Betsy patted the deep inner pocket of her jacket, felt the outline of the small handgun she’d tucked inside— just in case—and turned the key in the ignition.

Sleep could wait until the end of the day, she told herself. Until the job was done. One way or another.

On to property number four . . .